


Does this Vodka Taste Funny to You?

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Whumptober 2020 [9]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alcohol, Drinking, Gen, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Underage, Past Underage Sex, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:15:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: Dandelion and Geralt get drunk, revealing a few too many secrets along the way.Whumptober Day 22: Do These Tacos Taste Funny to You?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Whumptober 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958032
Comments: 10
Kudos: 81
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Does this Vodka Taste Funny to You?

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
> No 22. DO THESE TACOS TASTE FUNNY TO YOU?  
> Poisoned | Drugged | Withdrawal

“What do Witcher children do for fun, Geralt?” They were sitting on the floor of their rented room, leaned against the bed, in front of a flickering fire. A demijohn of vodka sat between them.

“We played games, bard, what else? We weren’t mutants yet.”

Dandelion frowned. “Mutants can have fun,” he reminded him.

“Didn’t have much time for it, after that.”

Dandelion took a swig from the drink, then offered it to Geralt who gratefully accepted. Outside, rain lashed the shutters and somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled.

“What was the first girl you ever had Geralt?” The bard was looking at him curiously, his eyes glittering. _No doubt planning a ballad_ , thought the Witcher wryly. “Come now, tell me about her.”

“You’re drunk, Dandelion,” he said with a snort.

“Not yet, I’m not Geralt,” challenged Dandelion. Snatching the demijohn, he took another long swig. “And I asked you a question, so there’s no point in beating around the bush.”

The Witcher only shook his head. “A paid whore, poet, what do you expect?”

“I’d hoped for something a bit more romantic, though I suppose I ought to know better by now.” His face was flushed red from the liquor, they’d both had more than enough, but neither of them were quite ready to stop just yet.

“What about you?” Geralt asked with a snort. “What was the first conquest of the great Dandelion?”

“I seduced my stepmother when I was fifteen.”

Geralt choked on his vodka. Dandelion didn’t seem to notice.

“She was a pretty enough woman,” he mused. “I thought to upset my father by seducing her, but she never bothered to tell him.”

Geralt spoke three languages fluently and was conversational in several others and yet he couldn’t think of any words that adequately expressed what he thought about that. “Dandelion?”

“Yes, Geralt?”

“Fifteen year olds can’t seduce adults.” The Witcher’s eyes glowed in the firelight, concern showing in them. “No, don’t argue,” he said as Dandelion opened his mouth. “She took advantage of you, bard.”

“Well, alright, Geralt, if that’s your belief.”

“It’s a fact, poetaster,” he said firmly. “Commit it to memory please.”

Geralt took another drink from the vodka and - somewhat reluctantly - passed it back to Dandelion. He’d prefer to take it from him entirely, but that didn’t seem fair, seeing as how Dandelion had purchased it.

“What about men?” the bard asked, leaning closer to Geralt with a curious expression. “What was your first man?”

“I think we should stop.” There was something almost crazed to Dandelion’s eyes, that worried Geralt. He’d never seen the poet like this before, not in all the time he’d known him and the countless times he’d seen him drunk.

“Was it at Kaer Morhen? So many youths in one place with no women- I can’t imagine-”

“It was,” the the Witcher tersely, pulling the vodka away from Dandelion.

“Tell me more.”

“I fumbled around with fellow students, Dandelion, I’m not certain what else you would expect.” He took a long swig of the vodka, just to keep the bottle from falling back into his friend’s hands. “What about you?”

“I attended Temple School, as you know Geralt. I- there were a lot of young boys my age, and- give me that bottle, damn it!” The poet grabbed the vodka and gulped down another mouthful before Geralt could stop him. “As I was saying, there were a lot of young boys my age, of course we got up to a bit of fun now and then.”

Geralt tried to pull the bottle back, but Dandelion clung to it as though it was his lifeline. “I let Tommen fuck me behind the stable when we were fourteen,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t bad Geralt, although, well, we were young and stupid and didn’t understand the need for oil. I figured it out though, eventually, although by that time Tommen had been sent home for being a sodomite…. I heard his father whipped him near to death.”

“I see,” said Geralt, managing to swipe the vodka away from Dandelion finally.

Dandelion stared at the fire for a long moment, then asked, “Did they ever hit you at Kaer Morhen, Geralt?”

“What’s in this vodka, bard?” he asked, looking at the demijohn in his hand.

“My teachers used to cane me. When I was sixteen, my grammar teacher had me over a table, whipping me square on the butt.”

“Dandelion-” He didn’t know where the story was going, but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it.

The bard leaned closer, his eyes flicking across Geralt’s face as though searching for some deeper meaning. “Did you know pain could be arousing, Geralt? I certainly didn’t.”

Geralt felt sick.

“I don’t recall what happened after that,” said the bard. “I used to remember, but I made myself forget. I woke up the next morning with an ache in my throat to match the cane marks on my ass.”

He reached for the bottle, but Geralt pulled it back. “I think you’ve had enough,” the Witcher said quietly. “I think you need to go to bed.”

“I’m not tired.”

Geralt hated himself for what he was about to do. “Axii,” he murmured, forming the sign with his fingers. “Rest, Dandelion,” he urged. “Just rest.”

Dandelion went limp and Geralt caught him, pulling him to his chest and sighing into his blonde curls. “You’re safe,” he promised.

**Author's Note:**

> in any other situation if Geralt had said he didn’t have time to play games Dandelion would have immediately stood up and been like “Well its time to play hide and seek then you loser”


End file.
